


those four little words

by ZeGabz



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Lots of patterns in this one, Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeGabz/pseuds/ZeGabz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Natasha needs to do is say those four little words, and everything will change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	those four little words

_What's wrong with you?_  
  
    He doesn’t look her in the eye when he passes her, heading for the archery range. Instead, he keeps his eyes downcast and only acknowledges her presence with a curt nod. Natasha allows herself a short-lived frown before following him.  
    Though she knows he’s aware that she’s following him, he doesn’t turn around and wait for her, or shoot her a teasing glance and ask if she’s enjoying the view. Instead, he just keeps on walking. Natasha almost calls out and asks him to wait for her, but she doesn’t. She’s not one to ask for things, no matter how much she wants them.  
    Clint has never been one to pass down the chance for conversation. He relishes teasing her and chatting with her about everything and nothing. In the beginning, it would drive Natasha absolutely insane. He would batter her with probing questions, useless facts, or information on the latest developments in other missions he managed to weed out of Agent Coulson.  
    That’s what makes his silence now so unnerving.  
    And the worst part about it is that Natasha knows she can make it all stop with just four little words.  
    But saying those words would change everything. It would be an illogical risk, something she knows better than to take. It would compromise them, and if Natasha has to give up the things she has begun to take for granted, then so be it.  
  
   _I love you, Natasha._  
  
    A week goes by and the most Natasha sees of Clint is during training with Coulson. Clint vaults like a world class gymnast, Natasha runs a mile. Clint shoots moving targets in the archery range, Natasha leaps and punches and kicks on a balance beam.  
    They don’t spar.  
    Coulson knows something’s wrong, but he doesn’t say anything to Natasha about it. Perhaps he knows better than to try. Or perhaps he knows that the problem isn’t with her.  
    Or so she thinks.  
    “Natasha.”  
    She almost doesn’t respond to her full name, it sounds so strange coming from Clint’s mouth. Since about a week into their partnership, he has called her anything but Natasha. Nat, Tasha, Widow, Tash . . . but not Natasha.  
    She turns, however, and meets his cool gaze, missing the usual warmth and playfulness reserved for her and Coulson.  
    “Yes?” she responds evenly, refusing to give away how incredible it feels to hear his voice again, even if it is unyieldingly cold.  
    “Phil wants to talk to you.”  
    “And he couldn’t tell me himself?” Natasha probes, hoping to find out that Clint just wanted to talk to her.  
    “He told me to find you,” Clint replies with a shrug, turning and walking off without another word.  
    When Natasha tracks down Coulson in his office, he offers her a seat and she refuses it, as always. He studies her for a long time, eyes boring into hers, which he should know will give him nothing of value.  
    Finally, he speaks. “You should put him out of his misery.”  
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replies.  
    “It doesn’t take much,” Coulson says, a half-smile teasing at his face. “All he needs are those three little words. Or four, in your case.”  
    “Which four?”  
    “That depends on you,” Coulson says, “But regardless of what you decide to say, you two cannot keep operating like this.”  
    “Are you saying this as my handler?” Natasha asks.  
    “I’m saying this as Clint’s friend. And yours.”  
    She says nothing, only stands and walks out of his office without looking back.  
  
     _This can't happen, Clint._  
  
    He finds her sitting with her feet dangling off the roof of the base. She remembers how he showed it to her years ago, when she was still in her teens and he acted like he was.  
    “It’s a great place to forget all the bullshit,” he had said quite bluntly. And she had appreciated. All she had known were metaphors and vague tales of bravery and blood. Clint had been her breath of fresh air, giving her life and energy.  
    Without Clint’s smiles and jokes, she feels like she’s drowning. The silence gives her time to remember why she’s here. Why she wakes up every morning.  
    She’s a killer.  
    She still sees everything that moves as a target, still has to restrain herself from snapping the necks of rookie agents who whisper about her behind her back. And she still feels the rush that comes with pulling the trigger and taking out the “bad guys”, as Clint calls them.  
    The silence reminds her that sometimes, she still doesn’t know whether to respond to Black Widow or Natasha Romanoff. She doesn’t know which one is the alias, and which one is the real her.  
    Clint had made it easier. He’s always been her rock, in a sense. A steady presence telling her when she’s going too far, when to pull back, or simply reminding her that she’s only human.  
    “Phil told me to talk to you,” he says slowly.  
    “Otherwise you wouldn’t have come,” Natasha states softly, eyes scanning the skyline and settling on Stark Tower, where that rich idiot is probably sipping champagne as construction commences.  
    “No,” Clint disagrees, his voice quiet and almost muffled by the wind. “I was already on my way to find you.” He chuckles. “Had a feeling you’d be here.”  
    She doesn’t respond, just looks over at him with a level expression, unwilling to tell him how much she would like it if he just kept on talking.  
    They sit in silence. She doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. When Coulson appears on the roof to tell them they have a mission and to be in his office in five minutes, Clint gets up and leaves her alone.      
  
   _That's all you'll say?_  
  
    During the mission in Sardinia, Clint only talks to her when he has to, but even then Natasha never once fears for her life. No matter how fucked up their friendship may be, he always has her back and she always has his. They take down the target within two days and Coulson gives them an extra day off to relax.  
    She and Clint enter a small tourist shop and purchase clothes, changing into them in the storekeeper’s bathroom. Natasha purchases a large sunhat and gathers her hair up, in case anyone is still looking for them, and emerges in a sundress and sandals. She tosses the large tote bag she bought to Clint, who heads back to the alley where they stashed their weapons and SHIELD uniforms. On another mission, he would wink and tell her that she looked hot. On another mission, she would reply that he didn’t look so bad himself.  
    But it isn’t another mission, so when they meet back up again, he just tells her he spotted a place where they can stay the night.  
    They rent out a small motel room near the sea, and Natasha hides away on the balcony to locate and bandage the scrapes she sustained during the mission. Within five minutes, Clint appears, opting to simply lean against the door frame and watch her rather than bandage her like he would have on any other mission.  
    She feels a sting on her lower back and reaches, but is unable to reach it.  
    “Nat . . .”  
    Natasha gets that ridiculous feeling of wanting him to leave and hoping that he doesn’t. “I’ve got it,” she hisses, allowing some of the bitterness she’s been feeling to seep into her voice.  
    He doesn’t say another word, retreating back into the room and closing the door.  
    Coulson was right. They can’t keep operating this way. Something has to change.  
  
   _What should I say?_  
  
    He’s being sent to monitor some energy source called the Tesseract and she’s being sent to Russia to take down an arms dealer who’s getting a bit too cocky for Fury’s liking. She watches him pack as she thumbs through his files, reading about his mission. She’s breaking a shit ton of rules, but she doesn’t care, and he’s already read about her mission anyways.  
    It’s the first time they’ve been deployed separately since she was sent to investigate Stark and he got to play with gods in New Mexico. She still hates not being there to watch his back, but then again, she doesn’t know if she could handle another silent mission.  
    They deploy the next day.  Natasha knows that if those four words aren’t said immediately, she’ll lose her nerve.  
    It’s pretty damn ridiculous that she can enter a fight outnumbered 10-1 without hesitation, but she’s finding it hard to talk to the man she trusts more than anyone in the world.  
    “Stay safe,” she advises softly as he finishes zipping his suitcase. Clint glances up and meets her eye, allowing her a cautious smile.  
    “It’s just surveillance,” he says. He pauses, and then adds. “And you, Tash. Come back in one piece.” He picks up his luggage and walks to the door, past her. Now or never, Natasha tells herself, you owe it to him. He’s the reason you’re worth something, he’s the man who turned everything around for you, the man who gave you the chance to be a part of something.      
    “Clint?”  
    He turns around, his eyes meeting hers. And when those four little words come out of her mouth, she wonders why she ever tried to deny it in the first place. It was inevitable.  
    “I love you too.”  
   

**Author's Note:**

> Everything in italics is the conversation that led to Clint basically ignoring Natasha. He needed to hear either "I love you too" or "I don't love you", and Natasha wasn't ready to give him either one. Well, now she is, but it took her a while.
> 
> I really wanted this to be more complex, as for me, the best fics for this pairing are as complex as the characters. However, more often than not, situations such as the one I placed these characters in are surprisingly simple, so I decided to not overwhelm the stunted, unsure nature of the story I decided to tell.
> 
> The number four is seen repeatedly in this story. It has a complex mythology behind it and I thought its symbolism fit Clint and Nat well. "The symbolic meaning of number Four deals with stability and invokes the grounded nature of all things. Consider the four seasons, four directions, four elements all these amazingly powerful essences wrapped up in the nice square package of Four. Fours represent solidity, calmness, and home. A recurrence of Four in your life may signify the need to get back to your roots, center yourself, or even "plant" yourself. Fours also indicate a need for persistence and endurance. " - what's-your-sign.com


End file.
